


Flight

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Established relationship – the reader shows Castiel what it means to fly. This drabble is SO FLUFFY.





	

You woke in an empty bed, finding only cold rumpled sheets where hours before a blue-eyed angel snuggled you near as you drifted contentedly to sleep. His absence did not alarm you. Rubbing bleary eyes, you squinted at the red digital numbers on the clock – 4:51 AM. Sam would be up already, many miles into a run. Dean would stir soon, roused by the scent of coffee set on automatic drip. You stifled the desire to pray for Castiel to return. He would, of course, return – he always came when you called. Although, with clipped wings, these days he often phoned first to advise you of delay if he was not in the bunker or its immediate vicinity. Swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, your toes hesitatingly tapped at the cold tile floor. You had an innate sense as to where you might find the brooding angel this morning. You also had a strong disinclination to venture out of the cozy bed. But if you dallied any longer, Dean would most certainly catch you creeping past the kitchen threshold and coerce you into sharing a deliciously greasy breakfast. You liked bacon as much as the next person, but something inkling deep within your being compelled you to seek out the angel you loved. Jeans haphazardly tugged over pajama shorts, sock-less feet jammed into untied boots, you threw on an oversized sweater, fit a beanie over your unkempt hair, and slipped outside into the dewy dawn.

You accurately anticipated finding the angel at the park, but the sight of him seated on a bench glowingly illuminated in the golden-hued sunlit misty air stole the breath from your lungs. Soundless and still, he held a hand outstretched before him, palm open, tiny birds flitting about his fingers - now perching, now sweetly singing, now stealing the proffered crumbs of bread. The wondrous scene captivated you. Crumbs greedily consumed, he overturned his palm, brushing the residue over his pants to the ground, wetly glinting sapphire eyes meditating upon the retreat of the delicately feathered creatures upward into the brightening Heavens where he had no hope of following.

“My angel,” you whispered.

Castiel’s contemplative countenance dissolved into a heartened smile.

“You mind company?” Advancing behind the bench, you trailed the tips of your fingers lightly at the nape of his neck, tickling the dark curls gathered there.

“Y/N,” he spoke in a tone grown husky from prolonged silence, “I hoped you’d come.” He drew open his coat, guiding you to nestle beside him, radiant warmth banishing the early Spring chill from your bones. “It’s a very beautiful morning.”

“It is a beautiful morning. But Cas, that’s not why I came. My soul, I think it sensed something from you - a longing.” Snaking an arm around his torso, you snuggled against his chest, comforted by the steady beating of his vessel’s heart. “What is it? What’s wrong, angel?”

Sighing, he rested his chin on your head, murmuring, “I still miss it sometimes.”

“I know you do.” You squeezed him tighter, mind flashing with an image of the graceful flight of the birds, understanding. “What was it like, flying?”

Hooking a finger beneath your chin, he tilted your gaze up to regard his affectionately softened aspect, eyes sparkling with unbridled fondness. “Flying is a lot like being in love – uncontrolled falls and soaring fast and free to the heights upon that which we cannot behold with our eyes but trust will carry us aloft even when we falter.”

“Cas!” you gasped, awestruck by his words, stretching a palm up to caress his unshaven cheek, tears flowing unbidden from your eyes. “That’s-”

“That’s why your soul was drawn here,” he interrupted, a small knowing smile brightening his features. “To show me I still have wings.” He ghosted a tender kiss over your trembling lips, thumbs wiping the streaking tears from your cheeks, nose softly brushing your nose and cheek as his pliant lips melted against yours, deepening the kiss.

Fingers rustling within his pocket, withdrawing a handful of crumbs, he broke smilingly from your lips. Carefully cupping your palm to hold the bread, extending your arm outward, he grasped your shaking wrist to steady you.


End file.
